


Honey Trap

by Suzie_Shooter



Category: Alex Rider - Anthony Horowitz
Genre: Betrayal, M/M, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-26
Updated: 2012-02-26
Packaged: 2017-10-31 18:29:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/347117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suzie_Shooter/pseuds/Suzie_Shooter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>MI6 need a distraction. Alex fits the bill rather too well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Honey Trap

"You want me to _what_?" 

Alex stared across the table in utter shock, wondering if he'd heard right. But the man facing him merely stared back calmly, as if he'd suggested nothing out of the ordinary. 

"We think you're uniquely – ah – qualified for the job."

Alex folded his arms. "You want me to whore myself out."

The man winced. "No need for language like that. It's not as if we're asking you to do anything you haven't done before, after all," he added slyly, and it was Alex's turn to wince.

"That was different."

There had been a – situation, a while back. He and Yassen, inevitably on opposite sides, but with little animosity between them. They were both simply doing a job. But it had gone badly wrong, and afterwards, mentally and physically scarred from the preceding events, Alex hadn’t had anyone else to turn to. MI6's casual offer of a therapist had sickened him. He'd found himself looking instead to his erstwhile enemy, turning up at the hotel room Yassen hadn’t known he knew about, bruised and dark eyed and hollow inside. 

Wordlessly, Yassen had held him, until he slept. 

They'd spent a week in that room. Yassen, hardly the most forthcoming of men at the best of times, never mentioned what had gone before, and Alex finally found peace in the fact he no longer had to think about what had happened to him. 

Later, perhaps inevitably, they'd fucked. Yassen had actually refused him at first, but Alex had woken him the following morning by wrapping his lips around the Russian's cock. He hadn’t argued after that.

But all this had been a long time ago. Their paths hadn’t crossed since. Alex had wondered if the Russian was even still alive.

But apparently he was. And MI6 wanted him out of the way.

Alex shook his head, obstinately. "I won’t do it."

Blunt shrugged. "Then we'll have to take him out."

"What?" Alex's head shot up, staring in shock at the calm, grey man seated at the desk before him.

"You leave us no choice. All we need is a window of opportunity for our agent to do the necessary. But a man like Gregorovich isn’t easily distracted. We thought you might have done the trick. However, if you're set against it, we'll have to do it the old fashioned way…"

Alex slumped in defeat. Knew he was being manipulated, knew also that if he didn’t do as they wanted, Blunt was equally capable of carrying out the threat. Ordering the hit. 

Yassen had saved his life, more than once. He wouldn’t – couldn’t – let that happen.

"Alright." More of a sigh than an agreement. But it was enough.

\--

Blue water, sparkling as if it had been carbonated with sunlight. White sand, bronzed bodies, palm trees. London might have been another world.

Sitting on the breakwater, away from the sun worshippers, Alex pushed his sunglasses up the bridge of his nose with one finger and scanned the crowds sourly. He was suspicious of island paradises, these days. 

Wondered how he was supposed to find one man in the seething touristy morass. He'd been here two days, and already thin white scars on his arms were becoming more prominent as his tan deepened. Self conscious, he'd worn a long sleeved shirt today, and was already hot and irritated. 

Today was the day. 

Maybe he wouldn’t find him. Maybe the Russian wasn't here. Maybe he'd gone. Maybe it was a mistake. Maybe he wouldn’t have to go through with this. Maybe – 

Alex sighed. Knew part of him wanted this, wanted to find Yassen. Although the thought that he was about to deliberately betray him, even if it was to save his life…

He shivered, suddenly cold despite the tropical heat.

He'd asked Blunt how he was supposed to find Yassen.

 _He'll find you_ , had come the reply. _He'll be watching._

Alex moved through the throng on the promenade, eyes searching the faces milling before him, alert to his surroundings.

Despite his vigilance the sudden hand on his arm still managed to take him off balance, and he stumbled into the darkness of an alley, cursing his own stupidity. Temporarily blinded after the light of the day, he blinked, expecting a knife at his throat or a gun in his ribs. Instead, strong arms stopped him from falling, and held onto him while he regained sight and balance. 

He pulled back, and the hands let him go. Blinked up at the figure standing in front of him, regarding him with a slightly mocking smile. 

"Hello Alex."

Alex swallowed, trying to regain his composure. "Yassen." Hoping he sounded genuinely surprised. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing."

"I'm on holiday." Alex shrugged. 

"You expect me to believe that?"

"I don’t give a toss what you believe, personally." Alex frowned, wishing his heart rate would slow down. But then, maybe Yassen would take it as only attraction.

Maybe it was.

Yassen was watching him, quietly amused expression giving nothing away. 

Alex shifted uncomfortably. "What are _you_ doing here?" he demanded, trying to retake the offensive. "I can’t quite picture you on holiday, somehow."

Yassen just laughed. "Perhaps not," he said quietly. "Perhaps you don’t want to know what I'm doing here. Perhaps you should turn round and walk away."

"Er – you were the one who grabbed me, remember?" Alex retorted indignantly. "I was just minding my own business."

"You didn’t look like you were enjoying your holiday much," Yassen murmured neutrally, and Alex wondered with a start just how long the Russian had been watching him.

"I was bored," Alex offered. He thought abruptly how ridiculous this was. All very well for Blunt to send him on this stupid mission, but what if Yassen wasn't interested? 

A look told him otherwise. Yassen was watching him steadily, slight smile playing about his lips, and Alex was suddenly angry.

"You know what? Sod you. I'm not playing your games Yassen." He turned to walk away, more than half prepared to abandon the mission. But there was a hand on his arm, an iron grip, not painful, but immovable.

"You don’t walk away until I say you can," Yassen said, calmly, quietly, but the implacable tone sent a jolt of something electric straight to Alex's groin.

"I don’t have to do what you say." Alex glared back at him nonetheless. Looking too eager could prove fatal. Yassen had to believe he was unwilling, unprepared for this.

"I think you do." Still so calm. 

Alex shivered. 

"So now what? Do we stand here till the rats eat us?"

Yassen tilted his head slightly. "Come with me."

"Where?" 

"Does it matter?"

"Of course it bloody matters!" 

Almost without seeming to move Yassen was suddenly right there in Alex's space, and for a second Alex was convinced he was going to hit him, but Yassen's hand only curled round the curve of his jaw, softly.

"You shouldn’t swear."

"Why, because you don’t like it?"

"Because it demonstrates a lack of control." Yassen smiled suddenly, and let him go. Walked away without so much as a backward glance to check if Alex was following.

\--

The hotel was small and set back from the main drag, but clearly exclusive. No-one in reception batted an eyelid when the occupant of suite twelve walked in trailed by a scruffy looking boy who looked like he'd been dragged off the beach.

Inside, Yassen's room was blessedly cool and Alex felt himself relax slightly as the oppressive heat was shut out. Cool white walls and linen, terracotta rugs and throws, stripped wood floorboards. A ceiling fan, lazily stirring the air. Despite the hotel's discreet position, Alex realised the room had an uninterrupted view of the harbour, directly down the street. 

"Not here on a package tour then?" Alex said, and Yassen smiled.

"Depends on the package in question. I am here to – collect something."

He came to stand behind Alex, who was looking out of the window, placed his hands on Alex's upper arms, let them stroke downwards slowly. 

"It's good to see you," Yassen murmured, and Alex turned in genuine surprise, unable to keep a startled smile from his lips.

"Yeah?" he asked, softly, hopefully.

Yassen nodded, settled his arms back around Alex, his hands clasped loosely against Alex's spine. Leaned forward and before Alex had realised his intent, kissed him firmly on the mouth.

Alex's eyes went wide, and he caught his breath, thrown. "You think I'm just going to - ?"

"You came quite willingly to my room Alex. What am I supposed to think?" asked Yassen, sounding eminently reasonable.

"That doesn’t mean – "

Yassen shrugged, stepped back. "You want to walk out of here, I won’t stop you." Holding Alex's gaze all the while.

Alex didn’t move, could feel the blush creeping up his neck and across his face. 

After a second, Yassen stepped back towards him, his smile pleased, rather than triumphant. "Staying?" he asked, quietly.

Alex nodded, stiffly, but this time didn’t object as Yassen's mouth covered his own.

\--

It was easy, after all, to give in to Yassen's touch, to let himself be pushed gently towards the bed. 

Stripping swiftly, Alex groaned as Yassen's bare chest met his own, wrapping his arms around him and kissing him, hard, biting a trail down Yassen's neck and collarbone, fumbling with the belt at the Russian's waist. No need now for acting, Alex was almost frightened to discover how much he suddenly wanted this, wanted Yassen.

He felt Yassen unclasping the watch at his wrist, and for the first time mumbled a protest. He needed, after all, to keep an eye on the time. 

But Yassen was grumbling, teasingly, about the cold metal against his skin, and Alex saw with a distracted glance there was a clock on the wall within easy sight and gave in.

They were naked, now, tangled together in an urgent embrace, Alex as demanding as Yassen, both sucking and biting and stroking and thrusting, equally remembering and discovering anew.

\--

The sun had slipped a little, the shadows lengthened. Alex lay sprawled across the sheets, Yassen moving inside him, thrusting in and out almost lazily, their earlier frenzy quietened. This was lingering, lazy, warm. Alex closed his eyes and moaned softly, spasming around Yassen's hard, pulsing cock, making him groan in response, thrusting harder, deeper, his hand seeking out Alex's own hardness and stroking, squeezing, caressing.

Alex, all sweat-darkened hair and slippery skin, gasping, shuddering, spilling helplessly into the sheets.

Yassen, stamina finally spent, spurting his release into Alex's hot tight body, face buried between his shoulders, whispering soft expletives in Russian.

Afterwards, sated, Alex slept. He didn’t mean to, but Yassen's warm arms and sleepy kisses had lulled him, and he drifted into a happy doze.

\--

Alex woke with a start, sitting upright in a sudden panic, heart rate slowing slightly as the clock told him the hour wasn't all that late. 

Beside him, Yassen, too, apparently waking from sleep. Alex looked up into his eyes, and felt a pang of sudden searing guilt. 

Yassen, stretching, glanced from Alex to the clock, and smiled. Alex followed his gaze and frowned, confused.

"You asked me, earlier, what I was doing here," Yassen said, slowly. "Do you really want to know?" 

"Only if you want to tell me," said Alex, awkwardly, hoping fervently Yassen wasn't about to try and leave to make the exchange anyway and wondering how he could stop him if he did. 

Yassen grinned, and leaned over to whisper conspiratorially into Alex's ear.

"I'm a diversion."

The words took a second to sink in.

"What? What do you mean?"

"A diversion. A distraction. A – decoy." Yassen leaned back against the pillows, watching Alex work it out.

"You're not here for the exchange at all."

Yassen looked smug. "I _knew_ you weren't here on holiday."

Too worried now to be annoyed at giving himself away, Alex was scrambling out of the bed, fumbling for his jeans. "They're not expecting anyone else to be there. I have to warn them."

Yassen yawned. "Come back to bed. It's far too late for that. What's done is done."

"What are you talking about? It's only half past f…?" Alex looked from the clock to Yassen, and his blood ran cold. "You made me take off my watch," he said, numbly. 

Yassen reached out to the bedside table and threw it to him

Alex stared at it. It was at least an hour later than he'd thought. Yassen was right, the exchange would have taken place ages since. Only far from Yassen being safely out of the way, he'd never intended to be there in the first place. Some other foreign agent would be there, totally unexpected by MI6. Their own agent might even be dead. 

Yassen seemed to be reading Alex's thoughts, had followed him out of the bed.

"Not your fault," he murmured. "You've done what they asked of you." 

Alex looked up, startled, his anger at Yassen having tricked him draining away as he realised that was exactly what he'd thought he was doing.

"You lied to me."

Yassen shrugged. "You lied to me. I imagine we both got chosen for exactly the same reason. Look at it this way, we both just got paid for this."

"It's all just money to you isn't it."

"Whereas Alex Rider is a well known patriot," Yassen grinned, and Alex flushed. 

"They were going to kill you if I didn’t," he mumbled.

Yassen took hold of his shoulders. "You screwed me to save my life? That's dedication."

Alex glared, hurt. "You think I just – ?"

"You tell me."

"I should go."

"Don’t."

Not an order, or a plea. Just a genuine sounding desire for Alex to stay. He wavered, and Yassen drew him closer.

"There's nothing you can do, to make things better or worse. So you might was well stay here. With me."

"I can't. Don't you see I can't?" Alex stared at him, forlornly. "They'll think – God knows what they'll think."

"Do you care? Anyway, you're only doing what they told you."

"How do you know what they told me?" Alex demanded, irritably, but Yassen just laughed, letting him go and picking up his own jeans, pulling them on.

Alex watched him get dressed, realising to his faint surprise that it was in fact possible to feel more miserable than he was already. "Where are you going?" he asked in a small voice.

Yassen shrugged. "Clearly you're not going to be talked into coming back to bed, so I might as well be getting on." He slung a bag over his shoulder and slid his feet into a pair of canvas deck shoes. "The room's paid up till morning if you want to stay."

He got as far as the door before Alex cracked and yelled at him.

"Yassen!"

"Hmmn?" Not turning round. But Alex knew he was still being played.

"You're a bastard." 

"And?" 

"I hate you."

"And?" Yassen, smiling now, still with his back to the room, hand on the door knob. 

"…don’t go."

\--

He stayed.

\--


End file.
